


Bottom

by CedarTheBarefoot



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Dirty Jokes, M/M, Morning Sex, Oral Sex, Semi-Public Sex, Teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-23
Updated: 2020-03-28
Packaged: 2021-03-01 01:02:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,704
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23276782
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CedarTheBarefoot/pseuds/CedarTheBarefoot
Summary: The sun had just about risen, and there was definitely the sound of folks moving about. That apparently wasn’t enough to deter Arthur from slipping into John’s tent that morning.
Relationships: John Marston/Arthur Morgan
Comments: 12
Kudos: 222





	1. Being Had

**Author's Note:**

> So, this whole pandemic thing of early 2020...yeah. It sucks. 
> 
> Here, have some porn with some light-hearted ribbing. I know I have other in-progress pieces, but I couldn’t sleep and decided to just write. Hopping on one of those Bottom tropes and riding it hard (hehe.) 
> 
> I was thinking of writing a second chapter...who knows. 
> 
> Enjoy. I hope you’re well, and please, take care of yourselves, darlings <3

John shuddered, clamping a hand over his mouth. His belly clenched up, hips stuttering minutely in Arthur’s grip against the edge of the cot.

The man in question was in the middle of quite literally swallowing John’s prick whole. 

It was damn near unfair how quickly his lover had gotten the hang of cocksucking. John was not a small man, but Arthur Morgan seemed to lack a gag reflex. He certainly didn’t lack the courage to shove John against the nearest surface to suck him off whenever it struck his fancy. 

Thankfully, it was usually in a safe, secluded place. Or at least in the middle of the night when all of camp was snoring, and those on watch were too far to hear.

 _Usually_. 

The sun had just about risen, and there was definitely the sound of folks moving about. That apparently wasn’t enough to deter Arthur from slipping into his tent that morning.

John didn’t know what he’d done to deserve such treatment. Sure, they hadn’t been able to fool around none for the better part of two weeks. Last time, Arthur had taken him along on a hunting trip in the mountains and nearly bent him half in their bedroll after the sun went down. John had come off so hard that he’d believed that he’d been dying. 

Two weeks of nothing after something like that? Well, he couldn’t say that he wasn’t itching for it.

John threw his other hand over his mouth, stifling another delirious moan. It was getting harder and harder to keep quiet as slick fingers mercilessly teased his sweet spot.

Arthur swallowed, flexing his throat around his prick. Sucked all the way back up to the crown. And went right back down, knowing how close John was by how his thighs spasmed. By how his belly tensed and the small of his back arched up. And most of all by the short, heaving breaths. 

John’s legs shook, bare feet trying to find purchase on Arthur’s back. Spots danced in his eyes, and he sobbed out a choked cry into his palms. Arthur held his hips down hard into the edge of the cot to still his lover’s struggling as he came off in waves against his tongue. 

Before John could even get his bearings, he was turned over onto his belly. His body went pliantly as he grew slack with release. But he couldn’t help the twitch and breathless gasp as Arthur pressed his cock against his hole.

“ _Arthur!_ ” John weakly cried, quickly covering his mouth again as he was very slowly filled. It was slick, big and almost unbearably hot. It was a tight fit after John’s release. The slight burn chased his orgasm, his fingers clenching in his blankets. 

But then Arthur was settling back on his heels, pulling him off the edge of the cot. He very quickly found himself fully seated in his lover’s lap, gripping the blankets like a lifeline. Biting his lip, he tried to muffle an overstimulated whimper. 

With a deep groan, Arthur wrapped his arms about his chest and rocked his hips upwards. He dropped gentle kisses at John’s nape, humming in pleasure. He was completely unbothered by the conversation about making coffee that was happening nearby nor the low, pathetic sounds escaping John. Didn’t seem to care about whether or not the folks in camp heard. 

The bastard.

* * *

Folks in camp had definitely heard. 

Some were more subtle than others. Vaguely poking fun. Sneaking curious or knowing looks at John. Chuckling to themselves. 

Even Charles went so far as to make a comment about how John seemed to be having trouble getting comfortable. A few of them had gone out to rob a stage that was rumoured to be carrying a heavy stake. John was shifting back and forth in the saddle, standing occasionally in the stirrups to ease the ache and stretch his sore legs. John normally wouldn’t take that from just anyone, but it was Charles with his understanding dark eyes, who so very rarely joked. So John didn’t pay him any mind.

It was around the fire that night that the teasing got a little more direct as they tucked into their dinner and drank in excess. 

“Ya know, Marston, I’m impressed,” Bill started, already smirking into his bowl of stew. 

John heaved a sigh, stirring his own stew with his spoon, “Simpletons are usually easy to impress.”

There were a few chuckles as the fire cracked, throwing a few sparks into the dirt around their feet. 

“Sure, sure. It’s just I’m impressed by how easy you can walk.” Bill chuckled, nonchalantly smothering a glowing cinder under his boot.

At that, there were some low titters and a few stifled snorts, lowered into bowls of stew. John made no reply, and he hoped that his blush wasn’t visible in the firelight.

Javier joined the teasing, “I’m impressed he can _sit._ ”

More guffaws. 

“Didn’t think yeh the type ta knock boots with menfolk, but I guess I ain’t surprised,” Sean piped up with a grin where he sat on the ground, legs stretched out and crossed at the ankle.

“Shut up, Sean,” John grunted, glaring at the young man who never had a problem speaking exactly what came to mind. At least the others weren’t as direct about it beforehand. 

Kieran picked his head up curiously from the far side of the fire, looking confused. “Wait. What’re we talkin’ about?”

“And you too, O’Driscoll,” John growled, tucking grumpily back into his stew. Kieran ducked his head, still confused.

John glanced over at Arthur. The bigger man didn’t seem bothered at all. Hell, he even seemed amused as he silently ate his supper. The nerve. 

Pearson swigged from his bottle with a shrug, “Common enough in the Navy. Ain’t my persuasion, but I don’t hold it against ya, John,”

“No, ‘cause Arthur‘s holdin it against him,” Javier grunted without missing a beat.

Hoots of laughter exploded around the fire.

There were a few more thinly veiled jokes. About cleaning rifles. Stemming flowers. Loading the chamber. Breaching the dam. Gathering firewood. As they grew more elaborate, the more laughter there was.

“You can tell'em to stop, ya know,” Lenny chuckled sympathetically, nudging John with an elbow.

“Nah, that’s fine, he can _take_ it,” Sean added. 

The men were covering their mouths, trying to stifle their loud laughter, grinning in the firelight at each other. Even Charles cracked a smile. 

“What makes you think _he’s_ been takin’ it?” Arthur’s drawled, finally joining the conversation.

There was a pause as everyone turned and looked at him. A low chorus of “Oooh”s sounded. He nonchalantly spooned stew into his mouth, glancing around the fire. 

Sean tipped his hat back and smiled, “Arthur Morgan, I didn’t think yeh had it in ya!”

“Once or twice,” Arthur replied. 

The laughter reached its peak. 

John watched how the teasing continued, but with a different sort of respect. People were a little more careful when poking fun at Arthur Morgan. 

The big man looked up from his supper, and winked at John across the fire. John smiled back. Now the image was in his head. They’d tossed each other off each other plenty of times over the years. Really only tried actual fucking for the first time at some point the winter before last. 

And John always took it. 

It wasn’t that he didn’t like being penetrated. In fact, he really liked it. He liked every moment leading up to it. The burn of Arthur’s stubble on his lips and his throat as he kissed and licked at him. The careful but merciless teasing of his calloused fingers in his hole. The ache and stretch when the big man pressed inside him. The feeling of being full to the brim, breathless and taken.

And then he imagined doing all of that to Arthur. He fancied doing it all gentle-like. Holding him while he did it. Kissing on him and…

John swallowed hard. Then he lowered his stew bowl into his lap, tucked his knees in a little closer as his prick twitched, pressing insistently against his flies.

He’d never really thought to _ask_ Arthur...but after what his lover had said, it was all he could think about. His stew grew cold in his distraction. He had never thought to ask. The inclination hadn’t very much existed before now. But maybe...maybe he’d ask next time.


	2. Having

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was another week or so later when Arthur and John found themselves camped out in the forest for a day or two of quiet fishing.
> 
> And privacy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You have asked, and so you shall receive! 
> 
> Thank you for all of your lovely comments and kudos. You’re all amazing. I hope you’re doing well, staying safe, and feeling healthy. 
> 
> Hope this smut brings you joy! ❤️

It was another week or so later when Arthur and John found themselves camped out in the forest for a day or two of quiet fishing.

And privacy.

John knew the others weren’t fooled. While Arthur had loaded his pack onto his horse in his easy, nonchalant way, John had seen the amused, cocked eyebrows on several foreheads. Barely concealed smirks. A few sets of rolled eyes. He’d tugged the brim of his hat low and tried to give off the same easy air that his lover gave off. 

They rode off to a large pond that they’d camped by a few times over the years whenever the gang was settled within riding distance. It was sheltered in the forest, and hard to get to unless you knew where you were going. They’d stumbled onto the place by accident when on the run from the law ten or so years ago. It was a peaceful place. It wasn’t quite _their_ spot, because there were definitely signs of other folks camping there over the years. But John liked to fancy it as their spot. 

After all, it was the place where Arthur had first kissed him. 

John’s thoughts dwelled on this as they whiled away the afternoon. He wasn’t as good a fisherman as Arthur. He was inclined to be impatient at times. But watching the serene way Arthur stood with his fishing pole on the shoreline, soaking up the sunshine, lazily smoking a cigarette was enough to make anyone peaceful. 

It was easy to admire him. Arthur was beautiful, though he didn’t think it so himself. John certainly believed he was. He smiled, reeling in his empty line to cast again. He wasn’t much of a fisherman, but it sure gave him time to watch his lover. 

After night fell, their bellies were full with their (Arthur’s) catch, and they were content and warm. 

John was in the tent, sitting on their bedroll, in the middle of having his mouth thoroughly plundered by Arthur’s tongue. He’d just managed to take his boots off when Arthur had ducked into the tent behind him, and got all up in his space. Not that he was complaining. He sighed into the big man’s mouth as he was lowered onto his back. Gentle fingers threaded through his hair, as Arthur climbed on top of him.

Heart racing, John went after his shirt buttons, undoing them with vigor. A low hum rumbled in Arthur’s chest and he leaned back to give John’s shirt the same treatment. Then he was ducking down to kiss hungrily at John’s throat, stubble burning slightly against his skin. 

Panting with arousal, John groaned, pulling the braces down from the big man’s strong shoulders. He gasped, hips bucking up against Arthur’s. The resulting pleased sound was muffled into his neck.

_“What makes you think_ he’s _been takin’ it?”_

John shuddered. He wanted to. Casually thinking about sex multiple times a day was a usual for him. But now he was also thinking about Arthur’s interjection into the teasing that night last week. The ideas and images that resulted from it. The nearly constant anxiety of wondering whether or not Arthur was game for something like that. Stewing instead of just getting his courage up to just ask.

So, without puzzling himself further, he dipped his hands into the back of his lover’s trousers. That in itself wasn’t terribly unusual. Arthur Morgan was gifted with a strong, shapely bottom from years of living rough and riding horseback after all. And John had never been too shy about his admiration for it. 

But this time he took a risk, and gently traced a finger down the crack of his arse suggestively. Questioningly. Asking permission.

The breathy sigh it produced was unexpected. John wasn’t quite sure what it was that he’d expected. But it certainly wasn’t Arthur chuckling warmly, and drawling lowly against his ear, “You wanna fuck me?” before claiming his mouth in another prolonged kiss.

John pulled back, and looked up at him, dumbfounded, “You’d...you’d let me? Just like that?”

“Sure. Why not?” Arthur murmured, leaning up to find their little pot of vaseline.

“I just...I don’t know,” John replied, watching his lover dig through his nearby satchel. “I guess I assumed that…” He trailed off, sitting up as Arthur did.

“That’s okay. Given how folks’ve been teasin’ ya, you obviously ain’t the only one,” the big man replied, shucking his shirt and undoing his flies. John hurriedly followed suit, dazed that this was actually going to be happening. After a week filled with curious glances, wondering, worrying and...and all he had to do was ask. So to speak. 

They shoved their trousers down and off, careful of their movements and the placement of their knees. They sighed into each other’s mouths as Arthur settled in his lap, pressing their cocks together, and slowly rolling his hips. John reached down and took them both in his hands. Turning his wrist and rubbing his thumb against the crown like how he knew his lover liked it. Arthur hummed deep in his throat, and slid his tongue over John’s lip, “Wouldn’t want folks in camp to call me a liar.” 

John glanced down, hearing the lid twist off of the pot of vaseline. He watched Arthur slick his fingers up and reach behind himself. Swallowing, John murmured, “You sure?”

The big man paused and then smirked, “You waited ‘til I had my fingers in my ass to double check?” 

“Well! I-I’m just,”

“Relax, Marston,” Arthur interjected, smiling softly. 

John grumbled, “Asshole.” 

Leaning closer and he kissed him again, “I’m sure. Just keep your hand on me. Just keep on touchin’ me.” 

Their hips rolled together, pressing into John’s grasp. Breath stolen away by long, hungry kisses. Their heated skin shone in the dimness with sweat. John kept his stroking even and subdued, not wanting anything to end prematurely. Arthur came back to get more vaseline for his fingers once more. Some time later, he nudged John’s hand away from their pricks and stroked John’s in his slick grip.

“Okay,” was all Arthur said. And then he was climbing off of John to lay on his side. For a second, John admired the strong back. His fingertips following the long valley of his spine to the fine arse, shining with the vaseline he’d used to open himself up. Half-lidded blue eyes turned to look over his shoulder. John felt his belly go hot as Arthur propped up a leg invitingly. 

The big man breathed out an easy sigh as John eagerly laid down and scooted up behind him, gently guiding his slick cock inside of him. It was tight, but Arthur breathed deeply, letting him in.

John groaned, pressing his face against his shoulder as his hips finally pressed against the shapely arse. “Ohh, Arthur,” he breathed through a shiver of pleasure.

“Good?” The big man murmured airily, reaching back to take his lover’s hand and bring it around to rest against his chest.

“Mmh, better than that,”

“Gets better,” Arthur said, sounding strained, interlacing their fingers.

“You okay? I know it kinda hurts at first,” John shuddered, keeping himself as still as possible. 

“M’okay, it’s just been a while,” Arthur reassured him, giving his hand a squeeze.

John didn’t voice the questions burning in his mind. Of course Arthur had done this before. But with who? Were they in the gang? Was it someone who mattered or had mattered to him? It obviously had to at least be someone he trusted. He didn’t seem the type to let just anyone fuck him. 

“You can move, just go easy.” Arthur whispered, pulling him from his thoughts.

Taking a deep breath, John cleared his mind and mouthed at Arthur’s nape. He shifted his hips minutely, not moving too much at first. The warm resulting rumble in his lover’s chest encouraged him. He gave a little more with every passing moment, still gentle, paying strict attention to Arthur’s reactions.

At first, he simply breathed deep. Adjusted his legs and hips. Then he went after stroking his fingers over John’s knuckles. He hummed softly, turning his head for a kiss as John slowly eased back and forth, going a little further each time. The big man grazed his teeth along his lover’s lip as he reached down to take his own cock in hand. Stroking along, feeling warm with desire. 

And suddenly he tensed up. 

Arthur gasped into his mouth, squeezing his hand, hard.

John knew exactly what his lover was feeling. It was that tender little spot inside that made one’s every nerve feel overwhelmed with pleasure. Made one feel blind, breathless, and kinda like floating. Or falling.

So, he tried to keep that particular angle and rhythm. Proud of the soft moans coming from Arthur as he brushed over the sweet spot over and over again. Growing in volume and length. Rising into deep cries of pleasure. John pressed his face against the damp shoulder, biting his lip, desperately trying to hold on. Arthur was shuddering around him at every push and pull. It was maddening. John never wanted it to stop and at the same time wanted it to come to an end immediately. 

“Arthur, I can’t last,”

“C’mon, John,” Arthur growled, frantically tugging at himself. “M’gonna come off.”

It was over in seconds. 

John held his lover as they both came down, hearts frantically beating against their breastbone. Panting and gasping for air. He eased his hips back, slipping himself out of Arthur’s hole. Wet with slick and spend. Hot. A bit overworked. 

“Fuck,” Arthur groaned, reaching back to curl his fingers through his lover’s hair once again. Pulling him into a lingering kiss as they came down and faded away into peaceful sleep.

* * *

It was another two days before the thought of returning to camp occured to the two of them. Their time had mostly been spent fooling around. John couldn’t get enough. He had Arthur on his back, on his front, against a tree, and on his hands and knees. They’d had to wash their clothes in the pond after making such a thorough mess of every packed article. And while waiting for the laundry to dry, John had him one more time on a patch of grass at the pond’s shore. 

Afterward Arthur laid out naked in the sun on the extra bedroll they’d laid out. He held a cigarette to his lips and took a long drag. He tucked a hand behind his head, holding his breath and then slowly sighing out a stream of smoke. It floated off into the trees, and a distant bird called out, echoing in the quiet of the early afternoon.

The smell of fish cooking over the fire made his mouth water, and his stomach grumble. But he wasn’t quite ready to move yet. 

Turning his head, he looked at his lover, curled up on his side beside him. Dozing softly. Spent from their most recent coupling. He smiled softly, and reached out to brush a leaf from the long dark hair. 

John stirred, blinking his brown eyes open. He gazed at Arthur sleepily, softly smiling. The big man took another drag and leaned in, pressing their lips together. 

The younger hummed softly, breathing in the smoke he was fed. Licked at his lover’s kiss-bruised lip as he pulled away. Blowing a stream of smoke to the side, John smirked and climbed on top of Arthur. 

Mirthfully, Arthur accepted the insistent kiss, brushing the dangling dark hair out of his face. There was a distinct growing hardness pressing against his thigh. An adventurous hand smoothed down the big man’s naked flank down his hip and folded suggestively around one of his arse cheeks. 

With a chuckle, Arthur reached down and grasped John’s wrist, “No, no. You’ve wrung me out, boy. I’m chafin’ at this point.”

His lover nodded, “Okay,” released his buttock and simply laid down on top of him with a content sigh. Arthur went back to smoking and stroked his fingers gently through the younger’s tangled hair. While tapping the ashes off the edge of the blanket, he drawled “S’pose we should be headin’ back soon. We’re askin’ for an earful if we stay away any longer.” 

John scoffed, “Not like they’ll be teasin’ _you_.”

Arthur snorted, “I ain’t tried gettin’ in the saddle yet, so we’ll see.” 

By the time they were done eating the fresh fish from the fire, their clothes were dried out. They packed up and set off, arriving back at camp before supper. 

John didn’t miss the amused, surprised glances as Arthur stiffly dismounted his horse and set about removing the saddle. The slight way he limped wasn’t lost on anyone who saw. The way he overcompensated for his soreness when he sat for supper around the fire. Right beside John this time, knocking his knee with his own.

Arthur took it all in stride, going about his business as if he didn’t notice or was unbothered by being a bit of a spectacle in camp. He missed or ignored the giggles, the sideways looks and the knowing smirks. 

John smiled to himself. He wondered when his lover would feel recovered enough to put _John_ on his back again. There was something about the easy air the big man gave off. How he made John realize that what they did together didn’t make him less of a man. It was liberating. And arousing. 

He watched as the cautious ribbing ensued as folks asked about their “quiet fishing trip.” They were much more subtle than when John had been on the receiving end. Arthur didn’t seem to mind. 

After all, people were a little more careful when poking fun at Arthur Morgan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comment and/or kudos!  
> Lovely to hear from you!

**Author's Note:**

> Comment and/or kudos!  
> Lovely to hear from you!


End file.
